


Star Wars: A Twi'lek Destiny

by SlutWriter



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Accomplice, Body Worship, Cheating, Cock Worship, Degradation, F/M, Humiliation, Lolicon, Masochism, Mind Break, Multi, Netorare, Physical Abuse, Sadism, Sexual Slavery, Shota, Smegma, Threesome - F/b/b, Verbal Abuse, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-05-27 07:34:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15019760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlutWriter/pseuds/SlutWriter
Summary: A masochist Twi'lek wife and mother can't resist the allure of slave life under the bootheels of two young, hung, cruel, filthy human boys.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Big Fucking Disclaimer: This story is not an attempt to add something nuanced and thoughtful to the Star Wars fandom but rather a taboo, extreme stroke fic meant to aid in masturbation, which happens to carry the trappings of the Star Wars universe. It is unbelievably lewd and without redeeming social value. Make sure you understand this and temper your expectations accordingly before reading any further.

Sara Letana was worried about her future. 

The Twi'lek wife and mother had long considered her place on the homeworld of Ryloth to be precarious, and though it was far away from the slave trade that had claimed so many females of her kind, a subtle lack of fulfillment still nagged at her. It  _ seemed _ a good thing to raise her 12-year-old daughter Tali away from the lecherous gristle-mill that devoured so many female Twi'leks, turning them to dancing, prostitution, and servitude. And yet the galaxy still seemed a complicated, bewildering place. First there had been the Confederacy of Independant Systems. Then the Clone Wars. Then turmoil in the Galactic Senate. The news reports from Coruscant were ever more alarming, and each day, more and more humans seemed to pour into the Twi’lek homeworld. 

These humans pawed at her in the market, leered as she passed, made remarks about her grace, her proportions, and whispered when they thought she could not hear about the money she could make at slave auction;  _ they _ seemed to hint at a very different destiny with each lewd brush of their greedy hands against her thigh.  _ They _ did not seem worried or confused.

And they were not wrong about her charms. Even among Twi’leks, a species renowned in the galaxy for sensuous females, Sara was surpassing in beauty. Her cobalt-blue skin was an instant attention-grabber, and her tapered waist gave way both to expansive hips and a jaw-droppingly large bust for which suitable humanoid clothing was often hard to procure. For this reason, and the equally robust dimensions of her buttocks, she served as her own seamstress. Despite these thick measurements, her ankles, neck and wrists remained dainty. Of particular interest to other Twi'leks and fetishists of the species were her prominent brain-tails, or  _ lekku _ , which protruded from her scalp with inviting plumpness. As with her other physical features, these were more voluminous than those of most Twi'lek females; Sara had taken to sewing her own head-dresses as well as her own halters and leggings. Even then, her calculations sometimes fell short, resulting in a busted seam or inappropriately tight, skin-hugging fit. The males on Ryloth were invariably pleased with these fabric malfunctions.

They seemed always to be sizing her up, like buyers turning a Ryl-fruit over in their hands, testing for plumpness and freshness, and the likelihood of a juicy, satisfying interior. In times of stress or confusion, she found herself remembering the salacious words she’d overheard in the spaceport of Mos Eisley as a youth running in the street and poking her head into the cantinas and bars, a conversation between slavers that was about her, though she’d been a teenager at the time.

_ Did you see the ass and brain-tails on that bitch? She’ll fetch a fine price. With those lips, I bet she could suck the shag off of a Wookie. It will not be hard. Offer her some bantha stew, and she’ll be ours for the night. Offer to make her a dancer, and she’ll be ours to buy and sell as we please. _

The slavers had been humans, of course. The humans were always most bold. Sara’s husband, Nab, worked as a doctor aboard the largest Rylothian space station, an orbital port that served as diplomatic and financial doorway to the rest of the sector, and he had no idea the amount of groping and catcalls she experienced. She was too uncertain to tell him, too worried about his meekness to spill the stories of how human merchants cupped her melon-like breasts as if examining Ryl-fruit, offering to put up credits to sponsor her as a dancer or concubine. She knew that in his own work he had been supplanted by a newcomer from Coruscant as vulgar and grasping as the rest of the lot, and this pattern was played out across her entire race. Even the corpulent Rylothian representative, Orn Free Taa, had meekly gone along, feathering a gundark nest of credits for himself while Palpatine neutered the senate into uselessness, robbing her people of the only voice they had in galactic politics. Now, the planet itself was under the control of a human “Regional Commander”.

_ There’s only one thing Twi'lek mouths are good for, and it ain’t talking. _

Humans took what they wanted. Sara loathed them, feared them… and respected them in some dark way. She asked herself more and more often the haunting question about why so many females of her race were slaves and prostitutes, gravitating to low positions of subservience as if it were encoded in their genetics. And why did her mind keep returning to that long-ago conversation, and the blank, content looks on the faces of the Twi’lek dancers and slaves who languished on the floor around the two men, seeming to want for nothing, to know no stress, or fear, or uncertainty, but only the certitude of service. She envied them, even though she knew she shouldn’t.

When Sara’s daughter Tali arrived home teary-eyed and distraught about human boys who had harassed her, Sara was not surprised. Incidents such as these were not uncommon, for the humans assumed that all other races were theirs to fondle, pinch and leer at. The girl, who had a blue skin tone much like her mother, was especially traumatized this day because of what the boys were saying.

“They said they’d sell me into slavery, if I didn’t do what they wanted!” Tali wept, wiping tears from her large and expressive eyes with the backs of her hands. “They started touching me, so I ran!” Her body showed no sign yet of exploding outward into the shape attained by her mother, her lekku were shorter and less pronounced, supported by a black, gold-trimmed head-scarf that matched Sara’s own. On one knee so as to lock eyes with her daughter, Sara asked what the boys had wanted her to do.

_Is she too old?_ _The Hutts pay the best prices for the young. I believe the best age for a Twi'lek girl to start learning how to serve is eight. Old enough to understand, not old enough to physically resist. By ten, they’re in so deep, they don’t know any other life. And they don’t want one, either._

After hesitating for a moment, perhaps too ashamed to repeat the words, Tali told her what the boys had said.

“To think they would try to scare you like that,” Sara said, her face showing what she hoped was understanding and forgiveness,“that grown males could ever say such things to a young girl. They’re such brutes,  _ yasha _ ,” she reaffirmed, using the Twi'lek word for  _ beloved _ . “Such nasty brutes.” Sara tried her best to comfort Tali, but her words rang false. In truth, this sort of treatment was one of the few things on Ryloth she  _ did _ still understand. Twi’leks being groped by humans was universal, she could have told her daughter that, as predictable as the rise and fall of the various suns. She understood it and could cope with it. More, anyway, than motherhood and child-rearing, an uncertain political climate, a timid husband, and the winds of galactic war on every breeze. These problems were more stupendous, and insidious, than a grope of the breast and the suggestion of how she could best use her mouth in exchange for credits. She wanted to tell Tali these things, but could not bring herself to say them.

“But they weren’t adults!” Tali clarified, wiping her nose. 

“What?”

“They were young, like me!”

Sara was silent for a moment, her hands softly gripping Tali’s narrow shoulders. Not adults, but younglings? She mentally retraced Tali’s likely route to school and back home, which would bring her through the market if she wanted to barter her allowance for a treat or trinket. Suddenly she could see their faces. “Did one have brown hair, up here?” she asked, waving a hand over her brain-tails to specify she meant the head, for not every species kept their hair in the same place. “And the other lighter, like grain?”

Tali nodded sullenly, and Sara felt an unmistakable tingle from deep within. She knew them. Had seen them at market, poking at droid parts like mynocks investigating a rotted worm tooth. And more importantly she knew their kind - refugee trash who had washed up on Ryloth, vagrants but still with the human instinct to see Twi'leks as chattel.

Taking a deep breath, Sara rose and walked toward the door, bidding Tali prepare dinner. “I’ll be back soon,” she made sure to add, running an affectionate hand over her daughter’s  _ lekku _ . She did not want to alarm Tali, but she also needed to find out if the threats the boys had made were real.

 

* * *

 

 

The two miscreants were named Kit and Narmo, and as far as Sara knew, their parents had been displaced by the Clone Wars and vanished into Ryloth’s underworld, never to be seen again, leaving their bratty, snot-nosed progeny to eek a living in the abandoned alleys of the market outskirts. What they could not beg for they doubtless stole, and yet their poverty had taught them no humility. To boys like these, the Twi’leks were a race of ‘tail-headed Hutt-lickers’, the Klatoonians were ‘ugly dog-faces’, the Ugnaught  _ and _ Gamorreans were ‘stupid pig-noses’, and the Neimoidians ‘greedy bug-eyed thieves’. Sara knew them by reputation; another human problem that the Twi'lek merchants were too timid to do anything about.

She rang the chime at the door of the abandoned hovel where they stayed and received no response, either because the portal (which was askew on its track) was non-functional or because the boys were too busy rambunctiously fooling with holo-games to pay any heed. To gain entry, Sara was forced to grip the rusted metal rectangle with both hands and shove it aside. The main room was dim, and she could see them bouncing about like Ewoks at a funeral pyre; dressed in sleeveless shirts and loose-fitting pantaloons, their skin tanned and tarnished brown, with raggedy hair down to their necks; blonde for Kit, brown for Narmo.

“Die, separatist scum!” cried Narmo, the taller boy, all scabby knees and elbows, his eyes focused on a holo-visor. “With the traitors defeated, a new empire will rise from the ashes of the Republic!” He mimed firing a blaster with grimy hands still sticky from an afternoon meal. Kit, the shorter blonde boy, also mimed firing a blaster. He had emptied out a water bucket and painted it white in a child’s imitation of a trooper helmet.

“Ba-blam!” he cried, his high voice echoing off the ceiling, which was pockmarked with peeling paint. It was a wonder with the squalor the boys lived in that they had found a way to siphon power from the market grid. “Kill all the non-human men! Then take the females to the camp, and we’ll rape them all!”

Sara gulped. Just what sort of holo-game were these boys playing? Their precocious young forms seemed at odds with the brutal concepts they were spouting, the sort of talk that Sara associated more with pro-human propagandists than Rylothian citizens. She felt rather exposed, standing there in her low-cut halter and tight-fitting leggings, her large, long, plump  _ lekku _ protruding back through twin sleeves of cloth that had been decorated with silver beads that offset nicely against her cobalt skin. The dim lighting, the sounds of entertainment, the cries of victory, the dilapidated setting and the subtle scent of alien musk, mixing with dirt and rust. It was familiar, disturbingly familiar. Like Tatooine, Mos Eisley in particular, that wretched hive or sleek alien sex; death-sticks, dark clubs and depravity. A place she’d left behind long ago, yet could not forget.

_ So, you’re the new dancer. It’s an eight hour shift. You dance. If a customer takes an interest in you, you dance for him. If he wants to take you in the back, you go in the back. The chain doesn’t come off your neck until your eight hours is done. Simple life, right? Should be natural for a Twi'lek. Now, get to work before I scar your face and make you useless. _

“Whoa, there’s one with huge tits!” cried Narmo, raising his empty hands at Sara in a mimicry of blaster-wielding, jolting her out of her bout of reverie. “Let’s capture her and sell her as a slave!” When Sara self-consciously crossed her arms over her breasts - no mean feat considering their size; her slender forearms and hands came nowhere close to covering the full expanse of her massive chest - the boys seemed to realize that she wasn’t part of the holo program and, instead, an actual flesh-and-blood Twi'lek who had come to pay them a visit. Gawking, they pushed their grimy holo-visors to their foreheads and looked Sara over. Their eyes were the only part of them that seemed pure. Blue, cold, and seemingly in a constant search for more things to play with, use, scavenge or sell. Slum-rat eyes. In an instant, Sara could see that the boys regarded her as more commodity than sentient being, and her heart skipped a beat.

“Aww, man!” Narmo griped, pouting. He was perhaps half Sara’s height; though she wasn’t perfectly familiar with human life cycles, nobody would mistake him for an adult any time soon. “I thought she would a high-score slave for sure!” Holo tapes and scavenged bits of junk were everywhere amongst a conglomeration of dilapidated furniture. Many of the holo-games were out of the protective sleeves and lay atop a player console that was rusty with age and burnt almost black with carbon scoring. The entire works had a burnt electrical smell, a fire waiting to happen. One of the holo-disc sleeves was readily visible; it depicted a scantily-dressed Twi'lek female laying on one hip with a chain around her neck, looking obedient.

_ Galactic Pleasure Slave Sluts _ , the title proclaimed. 

“Who are you?” Narmo spat, adjusting his makeshift bucket helm. He was missing a front tooth, which only added to his scrappy countenance. “This is our spot! We saw it first!” It was clear that the two boys were squatting, they had found the abandoned rooms some time ago and simply declared it their headquarters. Sara wrinkled her small, slender nose. The scent in the air was one of old socks and underwear, with a hint of things even more foul. The audacity of the boys, to defile her home planet in such a way, simply taking what they wished and tossing aside refuse in their wake; it was quintessentially human. Sara’s thoughts went to Nab, who had barely made a peep at being demoted and replaced by a human doctor. He was so docile, so afraid to reach out and take what was in front of him. Yet it seemed in the nature of humans to be relentlessly assertive, to take and touch and  _ grope _ what they pleased! Even Tali.

“What are you staring at, bantha-boobs?” Kit snarked, pointing a finger. His blonde hair poked out in all directions behind the holo-visor he’d pushed up on his forehead. “Shouldn’t you be off kissing a Hutt?” The boys laughed at this joke and Sara’s opened her mouth to speak. She balled her small fists and put her hands on her wide hips, moving to address the boys. It was a moment before the words would come, for she was slightly overwhelmed by their presence and confidence.

“I want you to leave my daughter alone,” she began. It seemed straightforward enough. “You told her she would become a slave. The clan leader would never allow such a thing.” She swallowed, her throat feeling thick, and then added: “It’s not right to scare people with lies.” Her tone held some of the authoritative tenor of an adult and mother, a sound she had used to corral children of other races for years, and the added threat of punishment from the local magistrate  _ should _ have weakened their resolve, set them crying and begging not to be punished, but the boys continued to stare at her defiantly. Gods, how little they feared her, and cared for her words! Her mind flashed back again to what she had overheard, those many years ago.

_ A Twi’lek slave is like a pet anooba. When they’re good, rub them. When they’re bad, yell at them. Spit on them! Beat them with a stick! _

Sara swallowed, trying to remain resolute and finding it difficult. The two boys stepped closer to her, their eyes narrowing. She had seen such eyes before. Slaver’s eyes.

“We weren’t lying,” Narmo said.

“A guy in a uniform offered us rations to tell him where seppies lived!” Kit piped up, brandishing a finger. Then, absurdly, he saluted awkwardly, jostling his bucket helm with the inside of his index finger. “We’re citizens of the new Galactic Empire!”

What they were saying was both crazy and hauntingly plausible. Sara knew that Coruscant would use any excuse to justify a military buildup, including the threat of separatist remnants that didn’t exist. She heard herself speak, hardly believing she was having such a debate with younglings. “But the Clone Wars are over! There’s been no separatists here for-”

*SMACK!*

All at once, Sara saw stars. It took a few seconds for her to register that she’d been sharply struck across the face; slapped powerfully by a human boy who didn’t consider her words worth listening to. He’d taken the crucial step forward as she’d been talking, and had to stand on the balls of his grimy feet to do it… and yet, he hadn’t hesitated. A wounded moan slid pathetically from her mouth, and one hand went to her cheek. Every nerve ending in her body tingled, and her lekku seemed to throb with so much sensory input. 

“Shut up,” spat Narmo, the taller brown-haired boy, and the author of the blow. His blue eyes were shining with youthful, uncaring sadism. “Just do what we say and we won’t tell them where you and your daughter live.”

“Yeah!” added Kit. “We just want slaves, like those guys in the holo, killing and raping as much as they want. And Twi’lek slaves are blasto!” As if to prove the point, the boy unabashedly placed his hand over the tented hardness of her nipple, kneading it through her tight-fitting, low-cut halter with fascination. His splayed fingers sunk unspeakably into her flesh,  _ gathering _ it, twisting it, causing additional sensations to bombard her already shaken form. Not to be outdone, Narmo slid his hand between her legs, pressing his palm insistently against the plump mound of her sex, the engorged lips of which seemed suddenly prominent in her sheer leggings. Sara could only moan as her clit was insistently ground against her pubic bone.

_ You can do whatever you want to a Twi’lek female. They love it. _

How many times had she heard that said on Tatooine? Hundreds, surely. “Y...you hit me!” she gasped, tears welling in her eyes, her knees shaking and threatening to come out from under her entirely. There was something like awe in her voice. It was less a complaint and more a validation of everything Sara believed about humans. 

“Say you’re our slave!” Narmo ordered, his eyes partially obscured by his spiky, unkempt brown bangs. When Sara hesitated for a second, her backhanded her in the face, dropping her to her knees and causing her chest to bounce and heave while drawing a moan. “Say it!” he reiterated.

Sara felt like she was being torn apart inside. Her life as a seamstress and wife had been a struggling one. Constantly worried about credits, with a wimpy husband who was forever being kicked around by human overseers, ‘freedom’ was a constant whirlwind of unpredictable events from which no circumstance seemed to grant shelter. Inwardly, she cursed her Twi’lek mind and body. Two grubby, dirty human boys were fondling her lewdly, grabbing huge handfuls of her breasts and sliding their fingers against her pussy, and her lekku were tingling like they were on fire!

Her paralyzed silence, taken as hesitation by the boys, earned her additional rebukes. They began to slap her ass and tits, winding up and slamming their open palms into her flesh, sending her melon-like breasts bouncing and jiggling, all the while berating her, their voices intertwining and becoming a cacophony along with the impactful sound of their blows. 

“You’re a slave! You’re a slave!” they cried, in a dozen variations, accosting her. 

“Your daughter is gonna get sold to an Aqualish butt-face!”   
“She’s gonna have to lick his stinky nose hairs!”   
“Or maybe a Hutt will buy her!”   
“She’s gonna be cute little slug-slave!”

Their small hands, their boyish voices, tormenting and groping her, hitting her slapping her! Sara fell to her knees, overcome with the sensations, feeling the need to flee, to run, but from what? From the vile threats of these boys? From her strained life as a wife and mother? They were such brats, rubbing their fingers over her nipples and pussy, doing whatever they wished. Her eyes blazed with defiance and she lashed out, slapping one of the boys in the face as he had slapped her. “Leave my daughter alone!” she howled, instantly surprised at the volume and fury of her own voice.

_ If a Twi’lek girl defies you, just put her in her place. They’re natural slaves, but they don’t respect a weak master. _

For a moment, all three seemed astounded. The probing hands ceased their intrusions, and Sara’s chest heaved with deep breaths. In that moment, the final moment of her own free will, Sara thought that perhaps her haunting suspicions about her race’s destiny were wrong; that Twi’leks were meant for more than slavery and prostitution, and statements to the contrary were just the horny musings of dirty old humanoid males living out their sick fantasies. And perhaps the two boys before her were not masters to be obeyed but brats, little kids with snot-noses and delusions of grandeur, and her fond remembrances of Tatooine just improper nostalgia. Without a master, slavery was just more confusion.

That was when Narmo, swinging his small, pre-teen hand, punched Sara directly in the jaw. She fell like a slaughtered nerf onto one hip, stars erupting in her vision, a surprised cry passing her lips. The two pairs boyish legs in their loose-fitting pantaloons surrounded her, she could see their dirty feet and little else as chemicals flooded her body, released by the stimulus of abuse.

“Want some more, you squiddy-head bitch?”

“You’re... beating me,” Sara gasped, watery-eyed. “You’re just a little human boy, but you’re beating my face like I’m a stupid, mouthy whore!” Her tone was one of awe, submission and arousal. Narmo knelt and used two hands to tear out the crotch of Sara’s leggings, exposing her puffy blue pussy, it was shamefully wet and glistening. At the same time, Kit stepped forward and stamped one of his dirty feet down on her lekku, crushing the nerve-rich tissue against the floor, distending it. Of all Twi’lek physiology,  _ lekku _ contained the most blood vessels, and the densest bundles of nerve endings. Cords of cerebral matter inside were part of what comprised the Twi’lek brain. The resulting explosion of input had immediate effects.   
  
Sara’s eyes rolled back to the whites and her tongue lolled out of her mouth as she turned onto her back and shuddered with lewd seizures. A warbling sound came from her mouth, it was a sound that had no conscious thought or sentiment behind it, only pure, overwhelming sensation. When Narmo slapped her glistening pussy with his palm and Kit lept into the air and came down on one of her head-tails with a two-footed stomp, every muscle in her voluptuous body tensed and she lifted her pelvis off the ground, shuddering in mid-air, her exposed twat upthrust above the twin globes of her ass as she howled with overwhelmed pleasure and pain. It was quasi-orgasmic, the trauma of physical abuse drawing out such intense feelings that Sara could barely function for minutes on end.   
  
“Feels...so good!” she mewled as they groped and hit her, her voice weak and at the point of breaking.   
  
“You like it, don’t you, tentacle brain?” Narmo taunted, grabbing her halter and ripping the front askew, sending buttons flying to all corners of the dilapidated room and exposing Sara’s large breasts. Now shamefully bare up top, she nodded helplessly at the sadistic boy. Suddenly, her marriage and even Tali seemed a Kessel run away, replaced in immediacy by a feeling of… destiny. Safety. Certainty. Gods, being a slave was so comforting, so free of worry! How had she ever denied it? Her husband was such a  _ pussy _ ! He’d never hit her in twelve years of marriage.   
  
“Y-yes! I’m… I’m garbage!” Sara moaned. “My people are galactic trash! Please, beat me like the dumb bitch I am!” The lekku that Kit had stomped was already blossoming with darker-blue bruises, and he stepped forward and stomped on the other, sending Sara into roll-eyed hysterics once again. As he ground his foot into her sensitive appendage, Narmo took pleasure in slapping her pussy, buttocks, breasts, and nipples with a barrage of blows, treating her expansive adult body like a playground for his smaller one, groping and teasing and twisting in between hits, burying his prying fingers into the flesh of her breasts and buttocks and squeezing them. Every action seemed to send the blue-skinned beauty into deeper depths of physical arousal and shock. Her pussy glistened and seemed to twitch with spasms as the boys had their way with her for what seemed like hours, but was probably just a few minutes, raining down blows and stomps to show her their superiority.   
  
When they got tired of hitting her and her frenzy died down, both boys stood over Sara, holding the drawstring waistbands of their tattered pants. She was breathing hard, her eyes unfocused, every part of her throbbing and engorged with blood. Tears welled in her eyes and her nose was running. A trickle of blood ran from one corner of her mouth, where she had bitten her lip as a result of the initial punch to her face. They looked at each other and silently agreed to test their authority by standing over her and spitting long streams of saliva onto her face, coating her gorgeous features with splattery ropes of their foamy expectorate, searching for any sign of defiance of resistance. Sara did not react, only staring blank-eyed upward as they spat on her, opening her mouth and extending her tongue to catch whatever she could. A strand of spit caught in one of her long eyelashes and draped down over her eyeball, she did not even blink.   
  
“Kriffing piece of garbage,” Narmo assessed. “Have you changed your mind about being our slave?”   
  
“Yes, yes!” Sara babbled. “I’ll be your slave, as long as you promise to treat me like  _ shit _ !” Her voice was both robotic and needy, as if any defiant part of her identity had been snuffed out. She sucked the gathered strands of saliva into her mouth, making a show of swallowing. “Your spit tastes so good!” Seemingly energized by the snapping of her last inhibition, the gorgeous blue-skinned bombshell rose to her knees, facing down the two boys and licking her lips with unbridled lust while staring at their crotches.   
  
“Pull out your dicks!” she begged, pawing at the loose-fitting cloth of their breeches. “I’ve heard humans have huge ones!” Her body was afire with lust, and she immediately cooed as her hands pressed down on a pair of hot, heavy bulges beneath the cloth, and her slender fingers hooked into each waistband, pulling them downward in tandem. Though covered with the dirt smudges indicative of their street-dwelling status, the boys’ narrow hips, thin thighs and hairless pubic areas still carried the cute smoothness of youth, though the ‘cute’ aesthetic ended quickly when their hanging, dripping penises were revealed.   
  
Sara gagged with a mixture of disgust and delight as the waistbands lowered to reveal inch after inch of fat, hanging, sweaty underage dick. Kit’s shaft seemed as girthy as protocol droid’s neck and hung most of the way down his scrawny thigh, tapering to a fist-sized head half-covered with a shroud of foreskin. Narmo’s was even longer, hanging all the way to his knee, capped by a long, flopping foreskin that seemed to be completely stuffed with filth. As soon as the boys’ endowments hit the open air, a wafting blast of foul air bathed Sara’s face.   
  
“They’re so big!” she marveled, stroking downward on each shaft as she knelt with thighs spread, her pussy exposed and dripping onto the floor through the hole in her torn tights, her breasts looming with gravity-defying fullness, the nipples hard as uncapped power converters. Her nostrils flared. “And they  _ stink _ !” She did sounded more impressed than disgusted, as though the powerful aroma of dried cum, sweat, and piss were more proof of human superiority.   
  
“I bet they’re bigger than your husband’s, huh?” Narmo taunted, crossing his arms and letting his long, dirty length speak for itself as it hung in her face.   
  
“Yes!” Sara moaned, reaching forward and taking young Narmo’s shaft in hand, feeling the heat and weight, lifting it and gulping with lust. With her opposite hand she put a hand under the boy’s large, hairless ballsack and lifted, letting the testicles pour over her palm, biting her lower lip. She moved her face in to suck one large, hanging ball worshipfully, drawing the loose sack-skin into her mouth and kissing lewdly at sweat-soaked, ruddy orb, nuzzling her nose into it and snorting the fat droplets of perspiration directly into her sinuses. After a moment, she drew back and beheld the young boy’s greasy, saliva-slick ballsack with more reverence than she ever had her husband.   
  
“What a huge pair of nuts!” she cooed, licking her lips. “You must have more sperm in this sack than my husband has produced in his whole pathetic life!” She gave a delirious laugh. “I don’t care about him anymore, I’m just a fucking pedo  _ oovazt _ who sucks the cocks of little human boys!” she finished, using the Twi’lekki word that would most closely translate to  _ brain-damaged _ or  _ retard _ . It was so  _ liberating _ to confess that her often-confused mind was useless, to desperately show the two boys that she was inferior to them in every way, a piece of trash to be scraped off of their boots. Sara wanted to be mistreated, abused, and reduced to sub-sentience, a position from which her life would always make sense. To this end, her opposite hand moved to Kit’s even larger pair of swollen balls, and she marveled and moaned at their weight and fullness, leaning in to plant a lewd kiss.   
  
“You make my husband look like such a  _ bitch _ ,” she whimpered, sucking a testicle the size of a training drone up against her lips, unable to fit the entire unwashed orb into her mouth. “And you’re so filthy… I bet you never wash!” Of this latter fact, she sounded glad.   
  
Kit and Narmo shook their heads. “The water only runs here one hour each day. So we’ve been waiting for a slave to clean our dicks for us!” crowed the taller boy, pushing his spiky bangs away from his forehead. “Now, get to work before I punch you right in your stupid face!”   
  
Sara shuddered at the thought of being punched by the boy, feeling secure in the knowledge that she would never be able to step out of line or fail in a task again without being brutally beaten by her pair of pre-teen owners. The thought of being so pathetically owned had turned her pussy to a soaking mess that was dampening her thighs with glistening streaks of lubrication. “Of course!” she agreed, putting her hands on Kit’s foreskin, which was tightly wrapped around his cock tip and showing a paste-like layer of yellowish sludge where it met his glans. “I’ll be your  _ toilet _ !” She opened her mouth wide, showing white teeth and a long and agile tongue, as if to prove the point. “I can’t wait to eat all of your cock scum, every day!” Hesitating no longer, she gripped the boy’s sweat-soaked foreskin and began to push it up his fat, hanging shaft.   
  
The sound of Kit’s filthy dick being peeled was like the rind being torn from an overripe fruit that that had been rendered pulpy and foul. Sara’s moaning, submissive face, just inches away, was immediately spritzed with a mist of sweat, dead skin and cock cheese that peppered her lips and nostrils and drew an animalistic moan from her mouth. “Nnnnnagh! It  _ stinks  _ like rotten bantha shit!” she cooed, inhaling through her nostrils and drawing some of the cock crud that had sprayed her face deep into her sinuses. Her eyes had gone a bit unfocused, as if overcome by the blast of human musk. Her bruised lekku tingled with the shameful, unwanted firing of neurons as her gorgeous face was bathed in a miasma of underage cock.     
  
“You like it, don’t you?” taunted Narmo, rubbing his own long, disgusting penis as he watched her service his friend. “It’s ‘cause you love human dicks! It smells good, huh?” The boy punctuated this last statement with a gap-toothed smile filled with something like pride. Being clean, his look seemed to say, was for tentacle-head concubines and stuffy old schoolteachers. From now on, Sara would be able to look forward to cleaning his body, sweaty from the Rylothian sun, each and every day. With her tongue.   
  
The newly-minted slave dry heaved and did her best not to vomit, staying attentive to the task as she went about satisfying the two brats. “It smells like rotten cum!” she moaned.  “And piss! And sweat! And dirty laundry!” Sara was in a state of pure rut. Humans truly  _ were _ grotesque, grasping, dominant creatures… and she  _ loved _ their grotesque, dominant cocks! Her lekku throbbed with distress and adrenaline as she considered that the boys were ten years old at most and yet possessed such brutal rape-blades. To have cocks so large and nasty - humans truly were the studs of the galaxy! Not even the famously-hung Wookies could compare.   
  
In peeling back the foreskin, she’d exposed a ring of yellowish sludge beneath the rim of the boy’s glans that was thicker than one of her fingers. As she gulped and beheld the trove of smegma with wide, disbelieving eyes, she heard and sensed tiny mite-like pests, no bigger than flecks of pepper, buzzing around her face, drawn by the musky smell. “Better get to work,” Narmo taunted. “Unless you’d rather be serving some fat Gamorrean along with your daughter!”   
  
The mental image of Tali, dressed in a skimpy outfit, licking the snot out of a Gamorrean’s pig nose, both horrified and excited Sara, who struggled to hold on to the last shreds of motherly responsibility still remaining in her subjugated body. Drawing in a short breath, she extended her tongue and started licking lewdly and desperately at the thick deposits of smegma, piling up the gunk on her tongue while looking at the cruel human boy with watery, submissive eyes. From her crawling position, he could no doubt see every detail of her massive, hanging tits, and the roundness of her bulging buttocks, so closely gilded by leggings that left little to the imagination. Her nipples protruded like turgid cones as she pressed her face up against the half-hard penis, using one hand to steady herself and one hand to grip the length halfway. The floppy, nasty cock bowed in the middle where she held it, the second half hanging down to languidly down to make contact with her eager, slurping mouth.   
  
“Don’t worry!” Sara objected, in between licks and sucks. “I’ll be a good slave! I’ll clean your dicks! I’ll suck your fat, sweaty balls! I’ll even drink all of your piss!” Her voice was thick and obstructed by the amount of filth already on her tongue, sounding like a female talking through a mouthful of chewed rations. “There still so much stuck in your foreskin!” She pulled the skin back forward around Narmo’s spit-covered cockhead, forcing it into a tube shape, driving her tongue inside. Her abused lekku throbbed in symphonic time with her nipples and clit, as though connected to the foul act via some manner of genetic alchemy. There was no denying that the act of servicing such brutal, hung young boys was triggering an unwilling, explosive response in her body.   
  
Switching cocks after gulping down a rancid mouthful of smegma, she worked fastidiously with her fingers to bunch up the excess foreskin on the end of Narmo’s dick, which hung two inches at least off the end of the boy’s large cock-knob in a floppy bulb shape, weighed down by the accumulation of filth inside. “Fuck, it’s disgusting!” she moaned, like it was a compliment, a testament to the boy’s ability to effortlessly defile her with the detritus from his unwashed body. “You’ve saved up such a huge load of cock-scum!” Her lips were dusted with flecks of smegma, her voice still choked with it. Inhaling and letting her eyes go unfocused, as though in the throes of ecstasy, she jammed the tip of Kit’s bunched foreskin into her nostril, arching her back and moaning as she inhaled and snorted the smell of concentrated cock crud straight from the source. The force of her pressing fingers caused a chowdery wave of accumulated dick cheese to explode into her sinuses, like pus from a burst pimple, flooding her olfactories with the foulest, stinkiest goo imaginable. Overwhelmed, Sara began to shudder and moan, her tongue sticking out, her eyes rolling back again, and shameful orgasms began to rock her adult frame as the boys watched with hungry eyes.   
  
“It’s just like in the holos!” Kit exclaimed, watching Sara force the nasty cock cheese out of Narmo’s foreskin and into her nose. “Twi’leks are total sluts!” Sara’s hands fell to her side limply and it was left to the brown-haired boy to ram his cockhead roughly into her nose, flattering it against her face and smearing her features with sweat, grime and occasional spurts of deep yellow piss. Her mouth was opened wide and her tongue extended, with smegma and saliva mixing in the back of her throat as it escaped her nasal cavity, inviting orifice for a dirt-covered, skinny little youngling who had been lusting for a place to jam his enormous cock all afternoon. With one boy under each of her armpits, they dragged her shuddering body over to an inclined pile of dirt and refuse and lay her back against it. Sara, thighs spread and with her buttocks settling in amongst the garbage, looked for all the world like a used-up whore that someone one had simply discarded.   
  
It was from this position that Narmo began simply  _ walking _ on her, planting his small feet on her voluptuous thighs as she ley splayed at a 45 degree angle, as if he were climbing one of Ryloth’s jagged escarpments. The size difference between them looked more exaggerated than other when he planted a dirty foot on each one of her melon-sized breasts, his toes sinking into her flesh as he turned to present his scrawny ass to her face, squatting down and pushing his penis back through his own legs to that it aligned with her throat. Sara’s had enough of her wits about her to see the boy’s smooth, dirt-splotched butt cheeks descending toward her face as he lewdly squatted, and mewled with delight.   
  
“Yes, ram your cock straight down my throat!” she begged, licking her lips. “I’m just a stupid slave-whore, it doesn’t matter if I can’t breathe!” Her thick thighs and and the round globes of her ass had nestled themselves into the jawstraw pile of machine parts and textiles, rendering her a thin-waisted, large-chested jewel in a setting of garbage. A jewel who welcomed a little boy squatting his bare ass in her face to drive his long penis down her throat, who welcomed being tarnished in any way her youngling masters could devise. Yet Narmo seemed to be having trouble with his balance, wobbling from foot to foot from his perch on her swollen breasts. He was on the verge of toppling over when his cohort, Kit, came up with an idea.   
  
Grabbing Sara’s plump lekku from behind her head, he pulled them forward, drawing a moan from the rough handling, and urged Narmo to reach behind himself and grip each fleshy, bruised-blue tentacle to steady himself. Thus, a unique and utterly degrading sexual position was created. While standing on Sara’s huge breasts, the brown-haired boy gripped her head-tails at each of his narrow hips to secure himself while squatting and driving his downward pointing cock into her moaning, gurgling throat.   
  
“Ha!” quipped Kit, crossing his arms and observing the nasty tableaux. “Her eyes are crossed. She looks like a droid with a loose wire!” It was true. The tight grip on her sensitive brain-tails combined with over a foot of long, wet, nasty underage dick drilling down her gullet had caused Sara’s synapses to erupt in an overload of sensations. Even more degrading, Kit grabbed a handful of discarded power cabling and began to whip the black, limber cords directly into her pussy, mashing her clit and labia. Sara’s eyes crossed and rolled back yet again, she gurgled deep in her throat as the tight passage massaged the long, thick meat that was pressing deeper and deeper. She choked, gasped, and gagged. Spittle and throat slime poured from the tight seal her mouth made around the shaft. Her cheeks mushroomed outward as they filled with the wet lubrications of her throat. Narmo squatted harder, pulling her lekku tighter, driving his dick deeper into her gullet until his unwashed, cum-sloshing balls were pressed up against Sara’s nose. A subtle cock shape could be seen in her taut, thin belly, showing that the young boy’s penis had penetrated all the way to her stomach and distended even that organ into a cock-shaped abdominal tent. Despite his tender years he was reaming out her insides with fourteen inches of meat.   
  
Once fully hilted in Sara’s throat, Narmo showed no mercy, holding his cock down her windpipe while his feet were firmly planted in her huge, bulbous breasts, to the extent that his toes completely disappeared into indentations in her flesh. She lay helpless in the rubbish pile, thighs spread lewdly, as Kit whipped pussy, tits, and buttocks with repeatedly blows from a tangle of power cabling. Sara’s eyes were unfocused as she gurgled and heaved, making vomiting noises and wounded moans. The boy’s tight grip on her lekku, using the plump cranial appendages to leverage his cock as deep as it could go, combined with the constant beating and lack of oxygen to overload her senses. She orgasmed, passed out, had a seizure that nearly dislodged the boy, and continued to orgasm repeatedly. She lost control of her bladder and sprayed a huge arc of humiliating piss across the room.    
  
In Sara’s mind, all conscious thought was replaced by a wall of inarticulate sensation. She could not think of her husband or daughter, only about the unlimited depravities that lay in store for her in her true calling as a pedophile fuckbitch for human boys. She did not care about her own personal well-being or about the common conceit among sapient races that younglings should not be pursued sexually; all she could think about was to be ravished by youngling cock after youngling cock while they spat in her face, called her names, and brutally beat her buttocks and breasts before punching her teeth down her throat if she’d been only disobedient. She could not count the orgasms she had while being abused and throat-fucked, it was impossible.    
  
After perhaps fifteen minutes of keeping Sara as a beaten, quivering mess, Narmo groaned and pulled up extra-tight on her brain-tails, forcing her face even more brutally into his undercarriage and her nose into his puffy, hairless asshole, an orifice oily with sweat and flecks of unwiped waste. “I’m gonna shoot it all down her throat!” the boy gasped, biting his lower lip in an expression that might have been cute under more normal circumstances. He tossed his head back and howled, performing not an act of lovemaking but an act of excretion, emptying his backed-up, rancid cum deep into the distended sack of Sara’s guts, sperm so nasty, congealed and foul it barely contained any liquid at all. There was a slushy, splattery noise as Narmo’s buttocks clenched, bracketing Sara’s catatonic face, and his shaft seemed to swell in her throat with each vomitous gout of lumpy cum from his pisshole. No onlooker could see it and conclude it was an act of congress between two thinking, feeling beings, but rather, a young boy relieving himself into an inanimate, Twi’lek-shaped receptacle for cum, piss, and cock-filth.   
  
Narmo, breathing hard, stayed docked in Sara’s mouth for another minute before letting her lekku fall away from his fists and straightening his hips, stumbling off of his position atop her breasts and down the refuse pile. There was a moment of silence and glassy-eyed paralysis from Sara before her cheeks ballooned out and she loudly vomited a gout of cum upward and over her own chest, splattering the nasty mess all over her breasts and midsection. When she began to make noises, it was hard to tell that they were words, the syllables being drawn out and her voice hoarse from the brutal, esophagus-stretching deepthroat she’d endured.   
  
“Thaaaaannnn… youuuu... “ she moaned, bubbles of cum falling from her mouth to gather in the valley of her breasts. Each one of the massive tits was larger than the boys’ heads. She made other noises less intelligible, and the two sadistic brats beheld her with satisfaction, Narmo’s deflated cock hanging down lewdly, while Kit’s fatter one was still at attention.   
  
“There are two of us, so we need two slaves!” Kit stated, his bratty voice partially muffled by his makeshift bucket-helm, which was uncannily like that of a clone trooper. “So get your fat, stupid ass out of here and get your daughter!”   
  
Sara licked cum from her lips and looked back at the boys with the barest recognition; that she even had a daughter took a moment to register in her orgasm-wracked, fucked-out brain. In her own mind she was a vessel, lower than dirt, a sarlacc pit for dumping cum instead of debtors. The label of ‘mother’ no longer fit, and the words she’d overheard so long ago rang in her ears again.   
  
_ Once you have an obedient Twi’lek slave, you have the daughter too. They’re the slave trash of the galaxy, and it always runs in the family. _ __   
__   
“I’ll… nnngh… go right away…” Sara gasped, barely able to rise under her own power, covered in bruises and whip-marks, every inch of her beautiful body covered in sweat and cum. She knew just what to tell Tali, who had wanted to be a seamstress and designer upon growing up, following in the footsteps of her mother. She had many lessons to teach her about her proper place, and the proper place of all female Twi’leks.

 

* * *

 

 

Two days later, both Sara and her daughter Tali were bent over the two toilet bowls found in the filthy bathroom of Kit and Narmo’s run-down hideout, the faces submerged in unflushed porcelain basins filled entirely with yellow, reeking piss. The boys were perched above their heads, feet on the rim of each bowl, holding their lekku like reins, Narmo with Sara’s longer ones to match his greater height, Kit with Tali’s shorter, cuter ones. As the females’ faces were forced into the waste, the boys used the plump protuberances to wrap around their dicks, sliding their cocks between the taut-pulled flesh, fucking them as if they were just another warm hole. As they moaned and tensed their youthful asses, spraying ropes of lumpy, yellow, pungent-smelling cum onto the heads of their slaves, both mother and daughter moaned with arousal as the physiological trademark of their race, their sensitive head-tails, were defiled. Both were nearly naked, wearing only the most lewd and scant leather bikinis.

“Thank you for letting my daughter drink your piss!” Sara gurgled when she was able to raise her head above the sloshing urine-line of the bowl. “I’m so proud to see you mark her as your territory, inside and out!”   
  
“It tastes so good, mother!” Tali cried back, shuddering with orgasm as Kit’s nasty, barely-liquid cum was spurted onto her  _ lekku _ . Her cute, innocent 12-year-old face was soaked with urine. “I hope Master Kit will rape me again tonight and beat me until my eyes are swollen shut!”   
  
The boys were hopping down from their perches, losing interest in the wake of their orgasms, giving the two females perfunctory slaps and kicks. Separated by as little as two feet, the two Twi’lek slaves pulled their piss-soaked faces from the bowls and collapsed to their hips, sliding closer to each other on the filthy floor until their noses were nearly touching. Sara reached out to stroke one of Tali’s lekku in a grotesque imitation of their former mother and child tenderness.   
  
“I hope Master Kit fucks your tight little throat with that huge cock of his and dislocates your jaw,” Sara whispered softly to Tali, drawing an anticipatory moan from the younger Twi’lek as their arms folded around each other. Then her voice grew wanton and vicious. “I just want to see a little human kid with a big cock  _ skull-fuck _ my daughter!”   
  
“I’m garbage, mama,” Tali cooed contentedly. “We’re both slave garbage.” She drew her mother’s cum-slathered lekku toward her face and began to suck lewdly on the end, as a baby nursing, teasing Sara by taking more and more of the tapered end in. Reaching out, Sara did the same, taking the daintier appendage of her progeny and beginning to blow it like a cock, sucking the rancid, yellow cum from the surface as they both moaned and lost themselves in the sensations.   
  
The two remained there, sucking each other’s brain-tails, for hours. Abuse, degradation, and pleasure had become their entire lives. And when the rise of human influence and the Galactic Empire came, and it affected Sara and Tali not at all. They had nothing to worry about, ever again.


	2. Twi'lek Slave Trash

Sara Letana was living a double life. 

On one side she was a seamstress, earning a reasonable living on the Twi’lek homeworld, Ryloth, along with her husband Nab and her daughter, Tali. She worked, she had dinner with her family (when Nab wasn’t too busy with his medical duties), she went to market, she did all of the normal things a Twi’lek might do. Even with the Galactic Senate dissolved and the Empire growing more authoritarian by the day, it was a decent life.

Yet her ‘other side’ was far from decent. Since falling under the sway of two human boys in the slums of the capital, Sara had developed a burning need to sexually degrade herself as much as possible. This was the secret that she carried with her each day as she performed the duties of a wife and mother. The eyes of the market thoroughfare saw her as they always had, as an innocent, good-natured female Twi’lek of astounding beauty and voluptuousness. They did not know that she had been utterly enslaved over the course of weeks and months by two boys who treated her brutally.

Nobody, least of all her husband, knew that she had come to crave the beatings, the constant rapes, the mind-destroying humiliation.

Nobody knew that when Sara saw a young, cute human boy, all she could think about was being skull-fucked by him until her brains were scrambled.

Each morning she would holo with Nab and tell him she was taking their daughter Tali to school with the rest of the younglings. Instead, she walked with her daughter to see an Imperial supply administrator, where she would trade for what the humans called ‘bimbo pills’ - a capsuled cocktail of hormones, genetic modifiers and nanomachines that would perform a gradual rewrite on her physiology. Adjutant Wirkin, in charge of ‘cracking down’ on illicit trade on Ryloth, was a middle-aged human male with lustful eyes and no scruples; to him, the home planet of the Twi’leks was a backwater territory that provided him easy access to females famed for their beauty and grace. Under his watch the slave trades of old continued, with the agents of the Galactic Empire skimming off the top. They allowed transactions that profited them while brutally suppressing the rest. There was talk around the city that for every indentured Twi’lek slave-girl ‘rescued’ by the storm-troopers and paraded about for public relations, two more were passed as bribes to Imperial officers, who then allowed the next twenty to proceed to their destinations in the remote territories.

Wirkin also had a taste for young Twi’lek girls, of which Sara’s daughter was a prime specimen. Thus a deal had been made that resulted in twelve-year-old Tali bouncing up and down on a large Imperial officer’s cock, her legs splayed about his knees as he sat, her small arms around his neck. The girl moaned and cooed and worshiped his liver-lipped mouth with sloppy kisses, her young eyes filled with amorous attention. The officer, Adjutant Wirkin, paid half-attention to the girl as she bounced her tight pre-teen pussy up and down his burly rod, addressing Sara at the same time.

“For this, thirty pills,” he huffed, heavyset and breathing hard as his arms wrapped around Tali’s small hips. Each squeezing descent of the girl’s body caused rivulets of her cunt sap to slide down Wirkin’s ballsack. Tali was being fucked by the Adjutant in the very office he was supposed to be using to regulate Ryloth’s markets, and Sara herself was nearby, on her knees with her large breasts exposed for the man’s viewing pleasure.

“M-mother, his human penis feels good!” Tali moaned, and continued to bounce, going back to sucking on the man’s swampy tongue as she was manhandled up and down. “There are so many bumps and veins on it! And it’s so fat!”

“Nnngh!” Wirkin grunted. “You Twi’lek trash, trading their own daughter for a few favors! You’re nothing but animals!” Sara could tell that Wirkin and the other humans saw Twi’leks as galactic waste. This made her feel comfortable in her place, and horny besides. Sara bit her lip and watched Wirkin fuck Tali with his fat, middle-aged cock. For her, it made perfect sense. It was the duty of every Twi’lek female, regardless of age, to serve as cock-sleeves for human penises. She fingered herself on the floor as the violation pf her child occurred, thinking about what a piece of garbage Tali was, what a piece of garbage  _she_  was, thinking about the thiry pills and how their effects would please her two ‘owners’, the slum-dweller boys, Kit and Narmo.

“Fuck, yes, tear apart my daughter’s bald little cunt!” Sara moaned, tweaking one of her turgid, thick nipples and twisting it in an unconscious imitation of the treatment she’d come to expect from human men and boys alike. She had learned to crave being fingered, slapped, groped and struck from all angles, and now saw it as a Twi’lek’s duty to absorb human sexual aggression. Her ears picked up on the wet stretching sound of the Adjutant’s stout, sweaty cock expanding Tali’s tender insides. It sounded like womp-rat meat being pulled off of a skewer, and the wet, tension-filled sound of flesh being re-shaped turned Sara on all the more.  “Mess up her pussy!” she moaned, lifting one of her swollen, enlarged nipples to her mouth and licking it. “Turn it into the shape of your human dick!”

“Nngh, you tentacle-headed bitch!” the older man growled, his belly bulging in his imperial officer’s uniform. “Watch as your worthless daughter takes my cum!” His hands groped her taut young buttocks, the pliant flesh pouring out of the gaps between his fingers, and he forced her body down hard on his prong. Tali moaned, her slender lekku swaying behind her as he she tossed her head back. They were nowhere near as fat as her mother’s, a reminder of her tender age. Her body went rigid and she cried out, squinting her wide, expressive eyes shut and collapsing against Wirkin’s chest. Beneath her, Sara could see every detail of the way her hairless cunt lips were stretched around the throbbing, grotesquely thick root of his sweat-oiled pipe, her petite stature making it look even larger. They groaned out together in their disparate voices, and from the twitches of Wirkin’s body and the tooth-clenched puffing of his reddened face, Sara could count the hot, thick blasts of semen being poured into Tali’s womb - four, five, six and more. Humans could cum  _a lot_ ; it was one of the things Sara adored about brutal, abusive human males the most = they never seemed to run out of cum and piss to fill her with. In that moment, she envied her daughter, and would have gladly taken her place, were it not for the predilections of Wirkin and his circle of enforcement officers and captains. They liked their partners young,  _inappropriately young_ , and paid handsomely in contraband pills for them. 

The adjutant’s cock was still iron-hard and lodged in Tali’s underdeveloped pussy when he contemptuously tossed a packet of capsules on the floor, and Sara scrambled with pathetic desperation to capture it. Outlawed on most systems, the “bimbo pills” were used by slavers to make female slaves (mostly Twi’leks and others with related humanoid physiology like breasts, buttocks, and lips) more alluring and mentally compliant. Immediately, she tore the edge of the holo-wrap, fished out a pill and placed it on her lewdly protruding tongue, sucking it down. She felt a tingling warmth spread out through her body, more mental than physical, and imagined the drugs doing their work as she shut her eyes with bliss, her daughter completely forgotten even as Wirkin tossed Tali contemptuously to the floor.

She’d always had an expansive, voluptuous body, but in the sixty days since taking her first “bimbo pill”, Sara’s proportions had grown even more explosive. Her lekku, long admired by male Twi’leks for their surpassing size and plumpness, increased in circumference by nearly fifty percent, to the extent that it nearly strained her neck to carry the two swollen, conical lengths of tender flesh. Her breasts had grown larger, nearly impossible to contain in her usual style of earth-toned halter tops, and her buttocks had followed suit even as her waist remained trim and disproportionately narrow. It was a good thing she was a professional seamstress, for her huge cobalt blue tits and ass had started tearing her clothing at the seams on a daily basis, often while in public. And of course, there was no hiding her swollen nipples, raised over an inch from her flesh and with enough saucer-like size to nearly fill man’s palm. Kit and Narmo, had taken to calling her ‘bantha boobs’, or comparing each of her breasts to the “Death Star”, a recently-completed spheroid Imperial space station of surpassing size.

Her face had changed too. Sara had always had delicate, refined features, but the pills had stimulated the growth of her eyelashes to extraordinary lengths, and caused her lips to swell to nearly twice their normal volume. Her wholesome beauty was thus twisted by an exaggerated, plastic appearance that lacked subtlety and seemed to suggest a lust for fornication with every lick of her swollen tongue over her greased up, bulging dick-suckers. This was just fine with Sara, for it was more comfortable for her to view herself as barely sentient, not a living body but a collection of sexually gratifying parts. In her mind she used the nomenclature the boys had taught her: Her huge, jiggling buttocks were ‘fuck mounds’. Her bulging breasts were ‘milk tanks’. Her swollen lips were “cock pillows”. Her wet, hot pussy was a ‘cum sewer’. Her engorged, throbbing lekku were a pair of “rape reigns”. And her mouth was a ‘toilet’, a ‘garbage dump’ and a ‘cock cleaner’ all in one.

Even more than the physical changes, Sara loved how the pills made her  _stupid_. She saw her husband Nab only when his schedule permitted, and whereas before their rare, treasured dinner conversations had been back-and-forth affairs, Sara found herself more and more unable to comprehend the things he was talking about, and even less inclined to care about them. There was no other word for it - she was getting  _dumber_  with each pill, more inclined to giggle and say she didn’t understand than to offer any opinion on topics like the fledgling Rebel Alliance, the increasing abuses of regional governors, or other weighty issues of the day. The chemical transition into being what Kit and Narmo called a ‘stupid bitch’ was exhilarating, and with each dose Sara could feel her plump brain-tails tingle with as her cerebral processes grew more sluggish. 

One evening with her husband away, she had lain face to face with her daughter in bed and explained that Tali would no longer be able to attend the educational center where the younglings gathered each day to learn. “Twi’lek females are too stupid to learn, anyway,” she explained, softly, stroking Tali’s slender lekku as they reveled in incestuous nakedness _._ “We’re only good for sucking human dicks.”

“Then I want to be as stupid as you, mama,” Tali had replied, caressing one of her mother’s much larger brain-tails and drawing out moans.  “I don’t want to be a seamstress anymore, I just want to be a stupid cock-sucking whore!” As she said this, she brought the tip of Sara’s lekku to her mouth and began sucking the fat appendage like it was a cock, barely able to fit the thickness more than a couple of inches but sending waves of pleasure through her mother’s cerebrum all the same. This distinctive feature of the Twi’lek race housed part of the brain while simultaneously being an erogenous zone, a combination unique in the galaxy, and particularly apropos considering what was being discussed. 

That night in bed, with her husband away at his remote space station, patching up stormtrooper blaster burns, Sara had moaned and clenched her teeth, loving the feeling of her petite daughter pressed up between her massive tits and giving her some lewd and satisfying brain-suck. “Nnngh, yes!” she cried out, clutching Tali closer and taking a grip around one of the girl’s smaller head-tails, groping the length like a long, pulsing cock. “It makes me so wet, Tali. To barely know up from down, right from left! I love being a youngling-fucking, cock-sucking  _retard_! Do you understand, Tali? We must ask the boys to choke us and stomp us until our brains barely work!” 

Tali had enthusiastically agreed, and they writhed together, scissoring and sliding their wet pussies, sucking each other’s brain-tails and shuddering with pleasure. As they rutted, Tali vowed to her mother never to learn anything of use again, and, indeed, to actively forget anything she had learned that didn’t have to do with servicing abusive human cocks. They made a new sort of pact between them as mother and daughter, a pledge to be the most disgusting slave trash possible. Sara continued to visit Kit and Narmo every day, sometimes staying over in their trash-filled hovel, getting fucked on piles of refuse or on sweat-soaked makeshift bedrolls, getting pissed on, spit on, letting the boys sleep sprawled out on her expansive adult body or with their unwashed, heavy dicks jammed into her throat. Meanwhile, Tali became a favorite toy among the Imperial officers, and Sara felt a twisted sense of pride that her young daughter had learned so quickly to be the man’s compliant abuse slut. God, she  _loved_  it when humans beat her daughter and ripped apart her tight 12-year-old pussy with their fat cocks! It was one of her favorite things in the world, almost as fulfilling as being spit on, beaten and fucked herself.

This day, Adjutant Wirkin wasn’t quite done with Tali. “You people are fucking disgusting,” he spat, and then gripped the young girl’s head like a melon and jammed his dick as deep as he could into her spit-slick mouth. His expression immediately became one of bliss. “Mmmmmgh… god, there’s nothing as tight as pre-teen Twi’lek girl’s throat,” he groaned, simply dragging Tali’s skull up and down his shaft, letting her lekku and slack arms sway back and forth. “I don’t suppose you have any other daughters to barter?” His eyes were alight with greed. “Even younger ones?”

Sara shook her head. “J-just this one,” she replied. “But you can do to her whatever you like.”

“Then you will leave this one with me until tomorrow,” Wirkin added. It came out with the authority of an order. “I have... superiors who have similar interests to my own. She must be here to greet them and… nnngh... tend to their needs!” He pinched Tali’s tiny nose shut and dragged her mouth up to the fly of his uniform trousers, burying her face in his bushy pubic hair and causing a drooling, gagging sound to rise up from the girl’s throat. With his greasy, sperm-leaking cock helmet lodged in her throat and her nose completely blocked, Tali couldn’t breathe, but Sara didn’t seem to care at all, and bit her inflated lower lip with arousal rather than motherly concern.

“Nnngh!” she moaned, sliding a hand into her leggings to feel her soaked cunt, eyes locked on the violation of her daughter’s throat. “How many men?”

“A dozen, at least.” He paused, watching Sara shudder with the meaning of this number. A dozen horny, pedophile Imperial officers surrounding her young daughter, doing as they wished, their fat cocks absolutely destroying her tight pussy, ass and throat! “You have no problem with this arrangement, I hope,” Wirkin added ominously. “The contraband I’ve given to you can just as easily be taken away-”

Sara clutched the packet of pills. “N-no! Please, take my daughter for as long as you wish!” Thus, the last thing she saw while leaving the premises was the image of her daughter being brutally throat-fucked by the sweating Imperial officer.

All of this - the pills, the newfound direction, the molding of her daughter into a worthless piece of human-raped trash - was the culmination of what Sara had discovered the first time she’d ventured foot into the slums and been roughly used by human boys. Life was much simpler, much more fulfilling as a slave girl. Her marriage became just a front for what she considered to be her true calling, and Kit and Narmo - two bratty younglings with enormous, filthy, unwashed cocks - were for all intents and purposes her new husbands. It was for this reason that her next stop after leaving Wirkin’s coldly efficient Imperial trade office was the abandoned hovel in the slums where the boys were squatting. 

She had in the preceding weeks withdrawn all she could from the account that she and Nab shared - every credit she could embezzle without arousing suspicion, and perhaps a few more - to give to the boys as a tribute. They had invited the other slum-rats to watch holo-vids and play interactive simulators; all of Kit and Narmo’s ne'er do well youngling human friends would no doubt be there, and Sara had an important role. Since there was no running water in the abandoned, rubble-filled complex that served as the base of operations for their little gang of underage grifters, she had been ‘invited’ to serve as a toilet for the entire evening.

It was also her wedding anniversary. 

Nab expected her home for a romantic dinner, and had even sent her a holo-projected message with the invitation, though she had mostly ignored it and simply tossed the emitter into her handbag before taking Tali to see Wirkin. A normal Twi’lek female would have been thrilled at such a gesture, but Sara had no intention of dining with her husband that day. Instead, she went to her human boy ‘owners’ and greeted them the way that had become customary, by stripping totally nude and crawling on all fours like a loth-cat, a voluptuous expanse of blue skin, her enlarged breasts swabbing the dirty floor in twin mounds while her ass-globes swelled behind the bowed arch of her back. She kissed and licked the feet of the two boys, allowing them to paw and slap at her lekku as they wished, moaning with lust as her head moved around just below the oversized bulges in their dirty pants. They were shirtless and sweaty from the unseasonable heat, their tattered brown pantaloons tied at the waist and hanging low on their gaunt hips that spoke to borderline malnourishment. Sara liked that they were thin. She thought it made them look mean.  _Hungry_ , in a way. Besides, the scrawny duo were  _large_  in other respects.

“Did you bring it?” Kit asked, and Sara cried out with desperate obedience that yes, she had emptied her daughter’s education fund, and siphoned the savings that Nab worked so hard as a physician to build up. She then passed a small blurrg-hide pouch, the one item she’d kept of her discarded clothing. Inside it were baubles that the boys could easily barter in the slum markets, converted from the stolen credits. Kit took it, and he and Narmo smiled at the newfound wealth like thieves after a heist. “Good!” the boy said, then raised his hand aggressively. “Here’s your reward, you stupid slave-bitch!”

Kit wasn’t powerful of physique, but he still punched down into Sara’s face with skull-thumping force, collapsing her to the ground with a moan of mixed pain and pleasure. Kit stepped forward and ground his heel into one of her exposed lekku, mashing the pliant flesh against the floor, while Narmo did the same with the other. A thousand sensations exploded in Sara’s traumatized brain and her entire body seemed to shudder. Kit had smacked her right in her slender nose, possibly fracturing it at the least, but any feelings of pain were overpowered by the comfort and pleasure she felt at being mistreated and having her tender lekku trampled underfoot. Babbling and with unfocused eyes that rolled back in her head, she pledged to give them as much money as she could in the future, asserting that her Twi’lek family would go without comforts so the boys could buy all manner of toys, holos, games, expensive trappings that had no practical value.

“You really are a dumb whore, aren’t you?” Narmo spat, bending at the knees to take a handful of Sara’s breast-flesh as it pressed against the floor. His foot was still pinning her lekku.

“Yessssssss!” Sara mewled, her brain doing cartwheels as her expansive, inflated bimbo body was abused. “Yesssssss, I’m so fucking stupid! Please punch my cock-sucking face whenever you like! I’ll give you all my husband’s money, our money, just to suck the filth off of your big human dicks!” This seemed to satisfy the two boys, who looked at each other and laughed. Kit pocketed the blurrg-hide money pouch and raised his foot, releasing her. 

“The others are gonna be here soon,” Narmo commented, running a hand through his wild blonde hair, a tangle that fell about his neck and just as unruly as the rest of him. “With this, we can buy lots of turbofizz. The really sweet, bubbly stuff!” 

“First we better put her where she belongs,” Kit added. The boys grabbed Sara by her twin head-tendrils and began to pull her harshly to the side room where the bathroom had once been. Once a functional part of an office or business, it was now a rusty, filthy ruin with mounds of garbage in the corners and two disused metal bowls that had not flushed in years. The rough tugging of her lekku made Sara cry out anew, and she crawled pathetically behind them, her pill-inflated sow tits dragging against the floor with nipple-hardening friction.

“Ooh, can I watch you piss?” Sara whined, looking up as she crawled and licking her lips. “I love holding big cocks while they’re pissing!” Her nose didn’t show any signs of large swelling or damage, but her eyes were doing to blacken nicely the color around them darkening to deep bluish purple that stood out from her normal complexion. She pursed out her enlarged bimbo-slave lips and licked her tongue lewdly over them to emphasize how indecent they were. “Just lay your big, long piss-pipe right on my cock-pillows and let me feel it flowing!” As if to emphasize the point, she pursed her mouth and craned her neck upward as if preparing to plant a kiss, and pointed to her mouth with an inviting finger.

“Shut up!” Kit said, and joined with Narmo to pull her close to one of the bowls. A heavy-gauge chain had been wrapped around the base and secured with a lock, with the other end of the bowl attached to a metal collar. Chaining Twi’lek slaves by the neck was a practice done all across the galaxy, and Sara’s stomach fluttered with sick excitement. Not only was she going to be the toilet of a bunch of human boys, but she was going to be chained in place! Her clit tingled just from the sound of Kit locking the collar around her neck.

“We told all the other kids what a brain-dead piss-chugging retard you are, so you better not embarrass us!” Narmo blared with his boyish bravado. If she’d expected further mistreatment in the moment, Sara was disappointed. They simply tossed her clothing and handbag onto the garbage pile in the corner of the room and exited, awaiting the imminent arrival of their friends for an evening of holo-games, fake blaster fights and eating the finest junk food that stolen credits could buy.

As other boys began to arrive, Sara reclined near the filthy toilet bowl, her back pressed up against the edge, waiting to be of service to whatever dirty brats might come in. Whatever differences Twi’leks and humans had, their bathroom facilities were interchangeable - for each species kept their bladders, urethras and anuses in a similar place, had similar digestive systems, to say nothing of similar epidermal layers (different colored, it was true), similar manners of perspiration and respiration, similar physical dimensions, and so on. Whatever method of waste disposal an Imperial might devise, a Twi’lek could also use. Thus, when a human spat in Sara’s face and called her “a toilet”, the verbal abuse carried very easily across cultural lines.   

As the party began to grow louder, she could hear the slum boys laughing and playing boisterously, engaging in excited conversations about the swindles they were planning, the loot they’d grabbed, the stormtroopers that had chased them away from public trade. Music blared, something spirited by  _Figrin D’an and the Modal Nodes_. It made the dilapidated, rubble-strewn compound sound like a dive bar, and that aesthetic didn’t surprise Sara at all. Kit and Narmo, along with the rest of the Rylothian slum boys, idolized the sort of black market traders and pilots and thieves that gathered in the seedier spaceports of the world, and sought to imitate them at every turn.

Sara grew increasingly excited as the first hour passed. She knew there were a good dozen human boys there, younglings, bantering and raising a ruckus. Literally chained by the neck to the toilet bowl, she could do nothing but wait, and did so with her legs lewdly spread and her agile fingers sliding between the plump lips of her wet pussy. It made her feel so utterly enslaved to be waiting on a bunch of cute, dirty young human slumrats - waiting on them to use her, just as her husband Nab was waiting at home. He had planned his shift rotation to make time for their anniversary dinner, to celebrate fifteen years of marriage. Closing her eyes, Sara could imagine him at the dinner table, having worked hard to prepare a sumptuous meal, expecting her to be there, not knowing that she had decided to be a  _toilet_  for a bunch of bratty human boys instead of eating a romantic dinner at home!

“Nnnngh, I’m going to be the best piss-slurping whore they could ever want!” Sara moaned, eyes shut, fingering herself more and thinking of Nab’s awkward holo projection of that morning, recorded using an R2 unit, inviting her to dinner. She spread her thick thighs lewdly, exposing herself, balancing on her heels and almost thrusting her plump pussy mound at the air, while her fingers continued to do their work. Her massive, embarrassingly inflated breasts hung off either side of her chest as her mind imagined her husband waiting in an empty living space. Her breathing quickened and mixed with the music and the sopping,  _slllrch_  sound of her own molten blue pussy as she worked it with agile seamstress fingers. With her eyes clenched shut to better envision her debauched fantasies, Sara didn’t even notice that a boy had entered the room.

The new arrival had slipped in below the din of the music and dropped his tattered slum leggings into a wreath around his ankles, producing his  _large_  young penis and taking aim at Sara’s mouth from several feet away. He wore a tight sleeveless top, barely a rag, really, and his hair spiked up vertically through the band of a pair of grime-crusted goggles, an unconscious imitation of the frontiersmen of a thousand fringe worlds who were no doubt his idols. Blue eyes seemed to gleam through the smudges of dirt on his face. “I’m first!” the boy cackled. “I drank all the turbofizz really fast an’ I get to be first, so drink my pee, tailhead!”

How old was he? Eleven? Twelve? Sara hoped it was younger, and moaned with lust as the youngling produced a long, heavy stream, his bladder distended with over-intake of sugary turbofizz and daro root beer. It barely broke up in the two meter flight from his spewing cocktip and her mouth, as thick as a finger and deep yellow, quickly filling her mouth and spilling down her blue cheeks. Her swollen, indecently plump lips formed a ringed cistern for his hot piss as she rubbed her huge nipples, almost jacking them off like dicks. The boy’s comically relieved face made it clear that he’d needed to piss very badly, and he let out a protracted groan that sounded just like a sexual release as poured out, forcing the stacked Twi’lek female to swallow ten, fifteen, twenty times, filling her mouth completely between each pregnant, foamy gulp.

Sara thought with deep, forbidden lust about the anniversary dinner she had skipped; her husband had expected to share an intimate meal while reaffirming their vows, and instead she was  _gulping_  down a human boy’s hot piss, her slender throat wrapped in a degrading slave collar and undulating with each mouthful. Over the top of the arcing, ultra-virile stream Sara could see how  _hung_  the boy was; his pinkish, cut cock was a sweat-soaked hose that he held horizontal from the scrawny hairlessness of pubis. She could see the sinews of his thighs, his pelvis, his hips, nearly swooning when she detected that each one of his balls was the size of her fist. Her belly felt like a sloshing nexus of warmth from all she had already consumed. 

At last the boy’s abating stream fell from Sara’s mouth over her bottom lip and down her chest, and he  began to shake his wet tool, splattering the final drops onto her body. “Hold it in your mouth, toilet!” he ordered, gleeful like a youngling with a new toy - which in a way, he was. Sara obeyed, making sure her face was upturned so the foul liquid wouldn’t spill over the sides, a foamy mess of bubbles around the edges. “You like drinking my pee, huh?” the boy asked, putting a hand to his chin, and Sara nodded her head as much as she could without spilling the contents of her mouth, punctuating the affirmation with a needy groan. She didn’t just  _like_  it, she  _loved_  it, craved the nostril burning stench and dank taste of the bubbling, spewing waste that rocketed down the long dickpipes of hung human boys who treated her like alien trash!

“Gargle it! Pull your mouth open with your fingers and make a face!” the boy ordered, relishing the opportunity to puppet her inflated, expansive matron’s body with his verbal commands. Sara obeyed, sliding up from her position languishing against the bowl and planting her heels, squatting with her thighs spread and her pussy lips swollen with engorged arousal, leaking thin streams of her wetness onto the floor. Her enormous boobs were blue massive spheres of fuckmeat that hung enticingly and lewdly in front of him. Keeping her chin tilted back, Sara brought up her arms and dug two index fingers into the corners of her mouth, wrenching it open and gurgling the piss into a frothy mess in the back of her throat. Her eyes became unfocused and rolled back and twin rivulets of piss ran from her nostrils in an utterly degrading display that it was her pleasure to perform for a human boy who was probably one-third her age.

“Sheesh, what a stupid tailhead suckbitch!” he laughed. “Kit said you were really brainless and only good for pissing in, but I didn’t believe him until now!” He gave one of her breasts an additional slap, sending it a-jiggling. “Now swallow, and don’t miss a drop!” Sara did as she was asked, her throat bulging and receding as she took down the entire, frothing pissload, making an exaggerated sound of refreshment and then showing the boy her empty mouth to prove the task was done.

“Nnngh, thank you for feeding me!” she moaned, eyes glassy with unconcealed lust. “I was supposed to eat dinner with my husband, but it’s  _so_  much better to be chained to a filthy toilet bowl, drinking piss!”

Her voice dropped away when Kit and Narmo appeared in the doorway, the leaders of the pack so to speak, with a half dozen others in tow. “Lonny, you dumb nerf-herder,” Narmo complained bitterly, gesturing toward the boy who had so recently defiled Sara’s mouth with his liquid waste. “We were all gonna do it together!” This caused Lonny to rub the back of his neck sheepishly, his piss-dripping organ swaying in the dank air of the room. He hadn’t been able to hold it any longer, he explained. But, he claimed, he had ‘really hosed her down, you shoulda seen it’. This began a spirited discussion only possible when enough crude human boys were gathered in one place, about who could pee the most, who was going to pee where, who had the longest penis to pee out of, and which part of Sara they were going to punch and stomp while peeing on her. Sara’s pussy, already soaked, tingled with excitement at their casual talk of pissing all over her. 

When they began to peel off their simple garments, dropping their pants and lifting tight-fitted vests over their heads to reveal bodies that were smooth and streaked with dirt, her nostrils flared as the room began to fill with the scent of the sweat, smegma and dried cum caked onto long, nasty foreskins. “All of your dicks stink so fucking bad!” she moaned, digging her front teeth into her pillowy lower lip in an expression of wanton need that was mirrored by her eyes. “Please let me clean them with my mouth!”

They surrounded her and let her do that and more, starting by synchronizing their streams, calling out to each other about when to start pissing like it was the first lap of a pod race. Kit gave the word and the rough semi-circle of boys began to relieve themselves all over Sara as if she were a communal latrine, sighing as they did so. No part of her was spared, and the boys paid special attention to her attributes that had recently expanded as a result of the ‘bimbo pills’ - her lips, breasts, and buttocks, making her pose lewdly in stances that accentuated each. Sara mewled and moaned and masturbated like a brain-dead whore addicted to piss, loving the feeling of those fat streams slamming into her nipples, ass-cheeks and face, cumming from the boys who were unloading their acrid waste onto her swollen clit and thick outer labia. “Mmmmmph! Piss all over my dick-suckers!” she begged, making an exaggerated kissing face and running her swollen, long tongue over it, rolling her eyes back and crossing them, showing the boys how stupid and undignified a piss-drinking face she could make. She sucked her own hard, pill-boosted nipples as though they were cocks, sucking the piss off of them while a dozen boys hosed down her breasts. 

It did not end quickly, but rather continued on. Boys who stopped pissing simply went for more turbofizz, and came back to piss again. They made her turn over and bounce her massive ass-cheeks lewdly while they covered them with steaming urine, stuffed her face into the swampy toilet bowl and filled it from all sides until she was nearly drowned, and lined up one after another to simply sit on her breasts, shove their dicks down her throat, and spray their frothy, steaming piss directly down Sara’s throat. The Twi’lek became less and less articulate, less and less intelligible as she was beaten and forced to choke on dick, her brain cells perishing in record numbers due to the bimbo pills, lack of oxygen, and repeated blows to the head.

In the course of the debauched revelry, Lonny (having already emptied his bladder prior and now searching for credits to pilfer) found the holo-disc in Sara’s handbag and activated it, producing a translucent, mono-colored image of a male Twi’lek standing and delivering a message to his wife. Nab had recorded it using one of the droids at his work, and so it contained audio playback as well.

_To Sara, my beautiful wife, I wish to celebrate thirteen wonderful years together, and so I will take a shuttle and meet you tonight for dinner. I scarcely deserve to be married to such a graceful woman..._

This played while Sara’s face was jammed into the rusty toilet basin while Kit slid his long, piss-spewing dick in between the plump protrusions of her head-tails and filled the bowl. Her lekku having grown even thicker than before, it was a tighter squeeze near the base of her skull, something the boy quire seemed to enjoy as he straddled her neck and kept it pinned to the basin’s rim. Sarah’s eyes were glassy and crazed as she babbled. ““Nnnngh… mmmmmm… skull-fuck me until I’m a fuckin’ brain-dead retard… it feels... so good... to be beaten and raped by little kids!”

Her blue body was gleaming head to toe with piss from more than a dozen young human boys who were alternately aiming their streams at her body or jerking off, and at regular intervals they would beat her bouncing buttocks with lengths of discarded pipe, making huge indentations in the flesh before it would rebound and jiggle enticingly. They laughed as they slapped her enormous blue butt-globes with repeated blows and whipped her heavy tit-mounds with lengths of stray cabling. Sara could only moan and gasp for what rare breaths she was allowed as her head was used as a piss-platform and her body beaten from all angles. Every few seconds, Kit would ‘taun-taun punch’ the back of her skull, scrambling her brains even more as he sawed his half-hard, spewing dick across the top of her head.

_Sara, you have shown incredible poise this past year as times in the galaxy have grown uncertain. I hope we can continue on through whatever trials may come as we always have - together._

When Kit pulled Sara’s head out of the toilet bowl, she rested her cheek on the rim and gasped for breath, her sinuses and lungs filled with the stink of steamy underage urine. Her blackened eyes almost seemed like exaggerated makeup. “Nnngh, yeeeeeeeesssss, piss all over me!” she moaned, gasping with each impact of young hands, pipe and whipping wire on her abused body. “Lay your fat dicks on my face and do it, god, I’m such a fucking toilet!” With Narmo naked at the side of the bowl, she reached out in to fondle his heavy sack, cooing lewdly at ran a thumb over the swollen nuts within. The more endowed boys had sweaty, low-hanging testicles the size of her fist, and she drew these toward her face with hungry intent, fastening her inflated, pill-puffed ball-suckers to their scrotums and essentially fellating the egg-shaped object inside, her vacuum-sucking mouth hollowing out as she made slurping noises, sniffing and sucking and kissing as she rolled her eyes back in ecstasy. She sounded devoid of dignity of humanoid intelligence as she moaned and begged like the nastiest Twi’lek slave hooker in the galaxy. “Fuck, your balls are huge!” she moaned in between popping noises from her pillowy lips. “I want your backed-up, stinky cum that’s as thick as jelly! Use it to mess up my worthless retard face!” She began to jack the long, smooth dick while burying her face in Narmo’s sack, slurping first one ball and then the other, turning her neck as needed while still pinned against the toilet rim. Meanwhile, Nab’s short holo message was reaching the end.

_Tonight, let’s eat together and look forward to our many future years with as much hope as we had at the start. I love you, Sara. I will see you soon._

There was a pause, and the image flickered, Nab resumed his initial posture, and began to recite his dinner invitation again. The holo-disc had been thrown to the floor once Lonny realized it contained a sappy love message and not lurid content like boobs or swearing, and now looped back to the start. It continuously played over and over as Sara was fucked, beaten and pissed on by the dozen human boys over the course of the next hour, the time in which the ‘anniversary dinner’ would have taken place if she’d cared at all about attending. The boys slid their cocks between her lekku, stabbed them into her tits and buttocks until the jiggling flesh would give no more, and lined up one by one to use her soaked and wanton blue pussy, stretching her thick outer labia with prepubescent cocks that were abnormally large, as if something about their squalid living and viciousness had caused them to evolve the reproductive tools to mark their Twi’lek slaves. She gladly and orgasmically help their dick-tips near her nose and peeling back their foreskins to better expose the thick rings of smegma within. For from being disgusted, she cooed at the mind-raping stench and size of each deposit and complimented the boys on how much they’d ‘saved up’ before apply her lips and tongue to the task of gathering the smelly cock-filth, and when she extended her tongue to show the accumulated grime before swallowing it down, it was done with her husband’s hopeful voice droning in the background, the same ineffectual looping message.

_To Sara, my beautiful wife, I wish to celebrate thirteen wonderful years together -_

_BZZZZzzzzzt! *CRUNCH*_

There was a squealing noise of electronic death as the message was cut off, the holo-projection disc destroyed by the stomping sandaled foot of a large Gamorrean, so portly and thick that he’d barely managed to squeeze through the door frame. It was an aggressive act, but the boys didn’t scatter in fear, or even cover up their nakedness at the new arrival, who let out a heavy porcine snort of frustration as he kicked the wreckage of the holo-disc against the wall.

“Norg! You made it!” cried Kit, then gestured toward Sara. “This is the big-titted squiddie-head piece of bantha poodoo I told you about. I thought you could take her and put in a good word for us with Druga.” He then turned to Sara. “You hear that, toilet? This Gamorrean pig-face is gonna be your new husband!”

The massive bipedal humanoid dwarfed not only the boys, but Sara was well. He wore the mud-colored fur and leather characteristic to his race, his skin green, his beady eyes deep-set in a surpassingly ugly face that featured a wet, snuffling snout and a jowled mouth with drool-slick tusks. Enormously thick biceps and thighs were attached to a wide, weighty torso. Like most Gamorreans, he looked slow-witted and brutal.

“No female with a working brain would ever want to have sex with Norg, so he’s the perfect mate for a retard like you!” Kit went on, and approached Sara to unlock her collar and untether her from the piss-filled toilet for the first time in hours. “Go ahead! Say hello to your true love!” 

The last of Sara’s mind crumbled away at the disgusting offer. She was utterly and completely broken in every way, so twisted that all humiliation was pleasure, all pain was orgasmic. Her face twisted into a pure joyful smile when she was given permission to ‘marry’ the fat, stinking, hulking pig-man. She walked toward him, black-eyed and piss-soaked, convinced that such a grotesque, smelly humanoid was the most desirable male she could ever have. She pressed up against Norg, her breasts trapped against his larger frame, and stood on tip-toe to throw her arms around his neck. “Mmm, kiss me, my darling husband!” she moaned, her eyes carrying a slightly crazed, broken look. The Gamorrean reached under her thick ass to cup her buttocks and haul her up, opening his drooling mouth to extend a wart-covered, spit-slick tongue and jam it into Sara’s mouth, making her suck it while his thick drool slid down her throat. The boys cheered the mindfucked woman on in her nasty makeout session, and Sara devoted herself completely to servicing her new ‘man’, sucking the saliva from his yellowed mouth tusks and even craning her face up to lick at his snout. moaning with pleasure as her tongue came back covered in thick snot. She greedily swallowed them down. “Your snot tastes  _amazing_ ,” she cooed, her once striking eyes glassed over with mind-rape. “My special mate! I’ll serve you like a wife should!”

The Gamorrean hungrily licked and sucked at her neck and breasts, almost munching the oversized, swollen fuck-jugs with his tusked mouth. He was strong enough to handle her easily, tossing her about as she licked and sucked as he pleased, causing her bountiful body to jiggle this way and that. Eventually, the brute dumped her to the floor and unfastened his fur-lined belt and codpiece, revealing a penis that was even more unsightly than the rest of him.

It was darker green in color than his skin, fading to a brown, leathery tone in some places. It was enormously fat, only slightly longer than the cock of the well-endowed boys from the slum but five times as thick, rivaling her waist in girth. It was near-totally wrapped in a thick, veiny, wart-pocked foreskin that reached halfway over a ridged and bumpy crown that seemed completely covered in bumps and tumors. Small winged insects, no larger than grains of pepper, circled his shaft and his enormous balls, drawn by the overpowering stench.

Sara inhaled and her eyes immediately rolled back into her head and crossed, while her tongue snaked out from between her thick, moist lips. “Nnnngh, fuck, your dick smells like rotten  _bantha_   _shit_!” she moaned, crawling pathetically toward the towering, thick-jowled brute, making her pipe-bruised ass sway and her massive tits slide on the piss-soaked floor. When her eyes focused on the stench-wafting head of Norg’s cock, there was no expression but one of blank, stupid lust. “It’s so amazing!” She reached out two hands and grabbed the shaft, her fingers not even close to interlocking around it, sinking her fingers into the fat foreskin in order to peel it back. As she did, it generated a wet, sliding sound of filth rubbing on filth, and the heavy cock-sheath was retracted to reveal a thick, bubbling ring of sludge around the underside of Norg’s wart-ridged glans. It was actually larger than the collar that had been around Sara’s neck, and the broken Twi’lek whore swooned upon seeing it, a minor orgasm rocketing through her boy-fucked pussy just from the overpowering stench. 

“My anniversary dinner!” she moaned, eyes-focused on the huge, bubbly ring of yellow-grey crud, her broken brain conflating her original husband’s invitation with her new duty to suck the cock-cheese from the warty, waist-thick monster prong of her Gamorrean mate. She leaned in, buttocks outthrust, tits hanging like worthless rape sacks, to do just that - gobbing fat mouthfuls of smegma that painted her thick lips like the world’s nastiest cosmetic, filling her mouth, chewing the stinky, nasty crud until it liquefied enough for her to swallow. “Nnngh, this dinner is amazing!” she moaned through a mouthful of rancid cock sludge, her eyes half-lidded. Sara spared no effort for her new ‘husband’ while the cleaning was underway, using her agile tongue to trace every ridge, every wart, every nodule, every boil on his disgusting cock, kissing and sucking on the lumpiest and most irregularly-shaped parts, worshiping the enormous prong as though it were the new power in the galaxy. Norg seemed to enjoy this, though with his language of grunts and drooling snorts, nobody could really be sure. 

He eventually reached down with two enormous hands - powerful enough to tear her limbs from her body if he’d so wished - and gripped lekku in each, suspending her in a kneeling position with her face pressed flush against his wet, jizz-leaking dickhole. The opening was the size of her mouth, which drew a laugh from the boys. “Kiss your husband!” Narmo ordered, and Sara moaned with lust as she sealed her pillowy lips around the wart-ridged opening and slid her tongue inside, her eyes filled with attraction, obviously completely turned on at the task of cleaning out the backed-up cum from the Gamorrean’s piss-pipe. Her arms and legs were totally limp and she had lost control of her bladder, though she was so soaked in piss it was hard to notice. Her mouth was still fastened over Norg’s smelly dick-tube when the massive humanoid snorted and began pissing himself.

It immediately filled Sara’s mouth, puffing out her cheeks and causing twin jets of piss to rocket from her nose. Still more was forced down her throat into her already piss-filled belly, the volume of the stream seeming almost to hollow her out as a rushing stream carves itself a new tributary. Her belly began to visibly grow to give off a lewd, bulging, pregnant appearance as what must have been a gallon of steaming, stinking porcine piss exploded into her guts. Sara’s eyes rolled back to the whites and she suffered a seizure as she orgasmed helplessly at being thoroughly defiled, her few remaining functioning brain spells sending failing signals. Still, there was no way she could hold it all, and with a lurching of her body, she vomited and directed a massive blast of regurgitated piss against the tip of Norg’s dick and down the front of her own inflated belly. The boys ‘oohed’ and ‘aahed’ at the backflow, and Norg snorted with frustration at her failure to consume all of his waste, gathering her lekku in one fist and hauling her completely vertical, her feet clear of the floor.

“I-I’m s-sorry I couldn’t swallow all of your piss, honey!” Sara moaned, showing real regret for the first time, far more regret than she’d ever shown while watching her daughter be fucked by Imperial officers. She croaked out another mouthful, then added. “P-please give this stupid piece of slave-trash another chance!”

But Norg simply reared back his fist and sailed it forward into Sara’s belly, punching her with gut-crushing force, battering her womb flat, squashing her bladder and crunching her ovaries like a pair of ripe shellavas. Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head from physical impact, and what little remained of Sara’s ruined brain sputtered to ruinous climax once again as she felt her most essential life-giving areas be bludgeoned into uselessness. Suddenly she remembered Nab, thinking about how he had once wanted another child, how that was impossible now because her once-fertile Twi’lek eggs-tubes had been squashed flat, and it only heightened her pleasure. “Nnnghgglglg… my womb is totally  _wrecked_!” she gurgled, tongue drooling out of one corner of her mouth. “Thank you for beating my worthless Twi’lek baby sack so it can’t drop out any more slave trash!”

But Norg no longer cared, if he ever had in the first place. He simply grunted and tossed Sara onto the garbage pile in the corner of the room, stooping to grab his fur-lined waistcloth and codpiece. It seemed Sara was such a worthless whore, even he didn’t want her, though she babbled after him as he turned to leave, sliding his wide body through the narrow doorway.

“Mmm… more piss… beat me more… rape me more… I’m gonna cum if you keep beating me!” Sara slurred, her mind barely able to form words. She croaked out requests for more cock, repeating herself, forgetting what she had said just seconds before. She was a totally ruined, worthless sack of shit, and was still moaning and begging for cock when the boys gathered around her, each taking one limb, and dragged her out to throw her into the alley with food refuse. “Mmm, I’ll do whatever you waaaaaaant!” she gurgled, even as they were tossing her slutty bimbo body onto the pile of fruit rinds, rotten produce and spoiled meat. “Just skullfuck me and choke me more!”

Kit and Narmo burst out laughing and the other boys joined in. “You stupid tail-brain, you can kill yourself for all we care,” he spat, tossing her clothes onto the street, then slammed the door. Sara moaned to the empty alley that she would, she would kill herself if it made the boys even the least bit happy, after all, she was worthless trash, worthless slave trash, and if she could serve them best by letting them jerk off on her dead body, it was a Twi’lek’s duty!

Two hours passed and night fell as she lay naked and covered in festering refuse, her brain starting to work again little by little. She would go back to her husband, she reasoned. How else would she steal more money for Kit and Narmo, if she couldn’t keep up the charade? How else could she make sure that her 12-year-old daughter was raped every day, and growing up to be a proper Twi’lek slave toilet? Yes, she was still needed, still needed by her boy masters, by all humans, to raise the next generation of Twi’lek whores.

It was not long before she began to finger herself again.


End file.
